


Holding the Fort

by esteefee



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, Hypothermia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-04
Updated: 2011-04-04
Packaged: 2017-10-17 14:09:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/177656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esteefee/pseuds/esteefee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Rodney make a pillow fort.</p><p>Re-post of commentfic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holding the Fort

**Author's Note:**

> For sheafrotherdon's [Shared Body Heat Festival](http://sheafrotherdon.livejournal.com/477926.html).

"This is ridiculous," Rodney said, wishing for the umpteenth time he'd thought to wear his fleece jacket and his woolly socks, except he'd been going to Earth, land of plenty for God's sake, and who knew the SGC would go into lock-down and the power would go out and he'd be stuck in a teeny-tiny monk's cell with Sheppard of all people, a man who lived in T-shirts and BDUs and apparently little else. "Are you absolutely, positively certain you don't have another blanket in your quarters?"

"Yes, I'm sure I'm sure, Rodney," Sheppard said, putting a little too much emphasis on the first syllable of Rodney's name in that way he had that evinced he'd reached the final iota of patience he had left and would shortly be administering head slaps or perhaps noogies, or might even sink so low as to give Rodney a melvin. Seeing as Rodney's last melvin had been in middle school and had resulted in a retaliatory locker stink bomb that had rendered three-quarters of the class' belongings irreparably damaged (the smell of Rodney's ammonium sulfide recipe was truly indelible), Rodney decided, wisely, to stop asking.

"It's just that it's really cold in here," Rodney couldn't resist mumbling. He looked over at Sheppard, who was glaring at him while rubbing his hands over his arms and bouncing on his toes, and thought perhaps he was imparting already redundant information. "Maybe if we—we could always..."

Sheppard stopped bouncing and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "What? Build a fire?" He gestured at the ceiling. "No ventilation. I was thinking we could short-circuit something and heat up a piece of metal to act like a radiator, but I don't have anything electrical in here."

"Oh! Not an entirely stupid idea, actually."

Sheppard narrowed his eyes.

"I mean. No, I was thinking something much more rudimentary."

"More rudimentary than rubbing sticks together?" Sheppard said, completely straight-faced.

"Yes." Rodney coughed. "I thought...shared body heat? In a confined space?" He gestured hesitantly toward the bed and fought, quite unsuccessfully, against a blush.

Sheppard stared at him then slowly started to smile. "You want to build a pillow fort?"

Rodney nodded.

"And share it with me?"

Again, Rodney nodded, even though Sheppard's grin had taken a decidedly evil cast.

"All right, Rodney," Sheppard drawled. He pulled the blanket from Rodney's shoulders, ignoring his protest, and went over to the bed. Using both chairs tipped on their sides with pillows stuffed next to them and the blanket draped over the top, together they constructed a not-too-shabby pillow fort.

"Well. It looks...good," Rodney said, feeling very nervous.

"So?" Sheppard gestured grandly for him to get in, but he wasn't meeting Rodney's eyes.

Rodney lifted his chin and climbed inside. His head barely brushed the top of the blanket. There was just enough room on his left for Sheppard to slide in beside him, which Sheppard did, slouching down with a mutter to tuck the blanket back in when his head pulled it from the chair on his side. Then Rodney reached forward and tugged down the folded-back piece until it was draped down so there was only a three-inch gap above the bed, enough to let in some air to breathe but not too much of the cold. When he leaned back again, it was to find Sheppard's arm waiting to settle around his shoulders.

"Like this?" Sheppard asked, sounding a little breathless.

"Yes. That's what I—I'm already feeling warmer; aren't you?" Rodney couldn't help nestling in closer, because he was already feeling warmer, and because this was Sheppard—John—so close, close enough for once, and he even smelled warm, like comfort and help and support whenever Rodney needed it, and even sometimes when he didn't. Rodney's nose felt cold and he nudged it against John's warm neck and felt John shiver a little, so Rodney wrapped his other arm around John, and John shifted somehow, melting against Rodney almost bonelessly. Rodney spared a braincell or two to wonder how he did that—was the man's spine made of memory metal or what—?

And then John murmured, "Rodney?"

And Rodney realized that tiny whimper of pleasure he'd made could possibly have been misconstrued, or properly construed, as damned luck would have it, except John's spine wasn't stiffening back into pre-meltdown configuration—if anything, the turn of John's weight onto one hip so he could tug Rodney's body more closely onto his might even be an indicator that—oh, those were John's lips, soft and warm and pressed delicately at the hinge of Rodney's jaw, mere inches from—

Rodney clutched and nudged and inched six measures down and to the right, John's stubble sanding across his lips until he found John's mouth gasping open under his, and it was warm inside, just as warm as he had heretofore not realized he'd suspected it would be, warm and soft and welcoming, and heat rose to the surface of Rodney's skin as he kissed John at last.

"Good. Good," Rodney said between kisses. He wasn't sure if he was critiquing or promising. When he tried to pull away, John gave a murmur of protest and tugged him back in, one cool hand on the back of Rodney's neck, and Rodney reached back to pull it down between them, because obviously John had terrible circulation and the whole point of this exercise was to warm him up. Not that John wasn't pretty hot. Rodney recognized that. Had always recognized that.

"Mmmm. Good," John agreed, and Rodney felt him smile. But his nose was still cold, pressed against Rodney's cheek, and Rodney disengaged to warm that too, running his palm over John's cheek and nose and then pressing his face against John's.

"There," Rodney said finally, and he felt a whuff of warm breath when John laughed. Rodney scowled, even though he knew John couldn't see. "Yes. Rudimentary, but effective."

"Very effective," John agreed breathlessly, and rocked his hips pointedly against Rodney's leg so Rodney could feel his hard-on. Rodney rocked back, whimpering a little. He certainly wasn't cold anymore, even though from all the wriggling around, their pillow fort was in shambles and threatening to collapse.

It didn't matter. It had served its purpose.

 

 _End._


End file.
